Traces of Ebony: A Flash Fiction Tale
A Cup Of Joe
I'd walked past the small coffee shop in Atlanta hundreds of times on my way to work, but never at this slow pace. Perhaps it was because I was temporarily crippled with a bad knee sprain that I'd noticed it today, or then again, maybe it was because I'd slipped on the sidewalk and lost my balance, hurling my old cane practically through the front door of the establishment in the process.
Either way, after my near fall, I decided to stop for a cup of coffee and rest a bit before I continued on my way. It was after the morning rush hour so I entered the shop, enjoying the redolent aroma of espresso and cinnamon. There were few customers inside, just three old men who seemed to be friends sitting at one of the tables, talking old men talk. The owner of the shop—I assumed at the time—nodded at me and came from behind the counter to take my order.
He had very dark skin, and except for his crop of thick gray hair, he was of indeterminate age, though I knew he was rather ancient by the way he moved toward my table. Not that he stooped over when he walked, or shuffled his feet in any manner, but his bearing seemed to indicate years of experience, of travails and sorrow, or so it appeared to me at the moment.
I couldn't trace his accent as it seemed to be a mixture of several languages, a patois not unkind to the ear, musical in a pleasant way which made his smile all the more enjoyable. I ordered a cup of java and a sweet roll and opened a newspaper to the sports page while Frank—the name on his shirt said—busied himself behind the counter.
It was only when Frank returned with my order that he noticed my cane. “Verah nice walkin' stick you have dere fellow,” he said “Your father, he go to the worl war II?,” he asked. I was taken aback that he knew about my father's war duty, was speechless for a moment but finally answered his query. “Yes, he served his time fighting and was blessed to come home again safely.”
“Yes, the war in New Guinea was bad, lotsa Japs die dere, lotsa “mericans too. Was bad.....real bad.” When Frank said this he had a faraway look in his eyes, seemed to see over the horizon to another time. Which he did of course. But I was astonished again that he would know where my dad had been. After all, the war was fought in many parts of the world, on many islands, as well as other countries and lands.
Before I could ask him how he knew so much much about my father, Frank took a seat across the table from me, and in the process, picked up my old cane and cradled it lovingly in his gnarled old hands. “Yes,” he said “I 'member dis ole stick, made it wif my own hands and sold it to your fadder long time ago.”
Suddenly it hit me, flashed into my head how the old man knew my father. I'd heard the tale many times how dad came by the cane. Stationed in Paupau New Guinea, he was recuperating from a bout of malaria when a young native came by offering the cane for sale.
Carved from a shoot of ebony as black as coal, the locals kept the source of the rare wood secret from the GIs, would only sell small items made from the precious material from time to time.
Wood of Kings and Pharaohs
Mysterious Ebony
Ebony has been used since before the time of the Egyptian Pharaohs, with many beautiful objects made of the rare wood found in the tombs of these ancient kings. Some believe ebony has a magical effect on those who carve it, with the wood never forgetting those who gather it from the dense forests of the tropics. These craftsmen swear the objects tend to gather together at some time in the future.
But that is merely superstition from uncivilized people who do not know any better, or so I thought at the time. Though it did seem strange I'd accidentally wound up here in the very shop of the artisan, carrying the very cane he'd made so many years ago. But was it really an accident?
At first dad refused to purchase the beautiful object saying, “I don't need a walking cane, I'm only 22 years old.” Dad said the young boy smiled at him and said, “You need it some day.” And he certainly did use it many years before he died. And now I'd met the young man in my father's tale.
It was only after Frank and I had embraced and shared a few tears that he motioned to the old men at the table to come over and make my acquaintance. They got gingerly to their feet and slowly hobbled over, each with his own hand carved ebony cane in hand.
Comments
This was a great story. My second time to read it. I enjoyed reading the words of the old man who made the cane as a young boy. You are a wonderful story-teller.
Have laid low as ms has gotten worse thought I lost everything my wife left lost my stepchildren young adults now my job my home even my dog but has made my faith even stronger cannot explain it even authored a book The Bible is Great go figure
Be blessed
I remember the challenge, Randy and I too wrote a flash fiction based on a cane and a coffee shop:
Hi Randy
Hope this finds you well
Hi again, Randy: Read this little tale again and still enjoyed it.
Bob
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Just read this again, Randy. You are a very good writer!
I’m flying with a direct flight from New York. I’ll email you with my contact info so maybe we can meet for breakfast, along with others who will be there already in the morning hours. Watch for my email.
What an emotional story Randy. You sure have a way of making the reader feel they are there with the characters of the story. I could even relate in some way to the family ties and could sense the feelings of the characters. You brought that out with the great descriptions of the scene. This could easily be developed into a screenplay.
Nice Randy. You really do have a gift.
A friend of mine once told me to put a little bit of you in every character.
You're welcome. I think the best stories have some level of truth in them.
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A very good piece of Flash Fiction. Great job.
Randy:
This is tremendous. Great job as usual. Very well done. Kudos!
Great story, Randy, as yours always are! Don't worry about being "wordy"...it runs in our family, you know! ;) We just have lots to say, don't we?
Randy, what a gripping tale for this flash fiction. You really pulled me into the story and hooked me there. Well done.
Very enjoyable piece. You know your story is good when there could be so much more to it if you decided to expound on it. The story leaves you wondering if the meeting is fate or merely serendipitous? It happens so often in life. There is always that question to explore when people converge in one place, at a specific time. Yes, the mysteries of life, as CMHypno said. Take care.
Very poignant tale Randy. We live a multi-layered, mysterious world that's for sure
Remarkable tale about a remarkable wood. Life is full of these little synchronicities. Great hub !
What a wonderful story! I really enjoyed reading this this morning. Well done! :)
What a wonderful story teller you are! You met the challenge head-on and I loved it...
Yes, I'm going to write a response but I have guests to entertain this week. When I have some peace and quiet I'll get it done.
Yes FF is a good discipline. It's amazing how many words we can cut out and still keep the sense or even enhance it. You did a great job!
Ann
A beautiful, gentle story, full of emotion, history, old friends.... Great mixture for flash fiction and well crafted. Your characters are vivid.
Ann
ps...I don't even know what "flash fiction" is and don't wish to really! I know I enjoy your stories and you are one of the few people I still read these days....
Hi Randy: Enjoyed the yarn. I brought back a stick made from the root of a tropical plant and sold outside the Caves of Cacahuimilpa in Guerrero Mexico. (I may have spelled that wrongly). It is so tough; more a staff, I have walked with it for ten years with no signs of wear on the unprotected end that hits the ground. I once had an ebony paper knife with a silver handle...lovely object, lost over time. Don't agree with qeyler's petty objection.
Bob
I keep looking for those darn voting buttons! This is a nifty tale indeed. I hear that Papua New Guinea is still rather wild and mysterious. My nephew went there to install some heavy equipment and he said that the natives are just as inscrutable as ever.
This is a lovely story pinpointing a special place and time. Thanks for writing it.
Wonderful story You have a knack for flash fiction.
Randy, I loved this story. I never knew what was coming, which makes for a great writer. I have to agree with DJ. In my eyes you're the best storyteller on HP. In fact, I voted for you as Best Fiction Writer in the Hubbie awards.
I ALWAYS look forward to your posts. Sure wish HP hadn't taken away the vote buttons.
This is an interesting and enjoyable story, Randy. I loved the twist at the end!
Wonderful story. You have done it so beautifully. Thanks and congrats.
Great story. Enjoyed that. It was a good twist in the tail.
Nice job Randy. very well done. My son served in Afghanistan about 3 years ago. Had some issues but getting better now. For the future I am being told I may use a cane for my MS but I say no way ... God needs me to do some things for Him.
BTW, Randy, I really liked the final twist!
Moving story all starting by tripping! Life is full of surprises and you've certainly packed them in here.
No buttons to vote but I would have voted this up, useful, awesome, and interesting if there were!
This was really great. It is nice to know that sometimes you can trust an author right up front to provide an excellent story. Many say that Ebony has special powers. Great stuff to think about.
Great story, Randy - I really like the little twist at the end - didn't see that coming! Good one.
Wonderful tale Randy. I have an old cuckoo clock that my uncle got when he served in Germany. He bought three of them, one for each of the important women in his life. His mother, grandmother and aunt. I got one of them and cherish my Black Forest cuckoo clock.
I have an IT for a son, as well. It is like pulling teeth to get him
to help me with computer problems.
If you say you are writing your ass off, then I will believe you.
BTW, you better have the tiniest ass know to man when I check back up with you.
Beth, I figure between the two of us, we can scare up some fine stories
out of billy-bob, here, He will be happy to write just to keep us off his back. LOL
I will not go away. My husband has tried everything he knows, and I am still here!!!! He, He
DJ.
Great flash fiction story Randy. My father served in Papua New Guinea in WWII a well. It all sounded very plausible to me. Well done.
No one can write them like you, Randy.
My heart leapt up in my throat when I realized I was seeing
a new hub from one of the most gifted writers of Southern tales.
You take real good care of that walking stick because it is going to
end up a permanent fixture to your hind quarters if you don't get
a book of Southern stories on the book shelves, soon.
You think you are gonna live forever? Get er done, Bro!
I know exactly where Jekyll Island is located and I know there is
only one campground on that island. Don't make me threaten you, cause, I will.
If you had written one paragraph a day over the last few years, you would
have a couple of books completed. I see you on here every day, talking sh*t with your cronies. EVERYBODY, LEAVE THIS MAN ALONE.
He is one of the best writers in his field, and he is fiddle farting his
time away. And, when he is gone, there will never be another Southern
tall tale writer to take his place. There will never be another Randy
Godwin.
I want to be at your first book signing.
Sincerely,
DJ.
Great story, Randy, and very intriguing how "the objects tend to gather together at some time in the future." That is an amazing touch to the story. I enjoyed reading.
With words to spare, lot's of them, you told a remarkable story, Randy. And I mean that. The "coincidence" began with his fall outside the coffee shop. That last line caught me flat footed. Well done and thank you for participating in this challenge. We are off to a fantastic start.
And yes, the other canes were well out of the picture. No conflict there at all.
Wow! Super story! Very well done!
I love antiques and an older dealer told me years ago that objects that survive have a life and energy of their own. I was reminded of him when I read your story. Very enjoyable.
When you do flash fiction, every word counts. You take out what you don't need. How the narrator didn't see the canes...that is discordant and overkill.
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